


No Strings Attached

by wormstaches (lamarnza)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Casual Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamarnza/pseuds/wormstaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean teases Castiel about being a prude, Cas decides to prove him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Strings Attached

**Author's Note:**

> HS!AU
> 
> I've had this idea floating around for awhile and wrote it to procrastinate finishing Waves since I'm scared of finishing it.
> 
> First time writing any sort of porny sexiness so be kind.

            They were sitting in the tree house Dean and John had built the summer between third and fourth grade. The pre-summer air blew in through the rectangular windows cut into two of the walls, too warm for spring but not yet smoldering in summer, stirring across their still-new teenage skin. They’d outgrown the tree house by years, bumping awkwardly when they would move around, but it was still _their_ place, always had been, always would be, from the _No Girls or Sams Allowed_ sign (the girls part had become void on Dean’s behalf by eighth grade, but they had never thought to cross it out), to the three sets of initials carved into the floor by the door (DW, CN, SW; SW because Dean could never really say no to Sam pleas to play with the “Big Boys”). The breath of a thousand memories was seeped into this wood, things they’d experienced together, because they experienced _everything_ together. This was their monument, the testament to the legend of Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak, the most inseparable boys the Kansas suburb had ever seen.

 

            Dean was sipping a beer he’d stolen from the fridge when John had fallen asleep during halftime, and Castiel’s now warm Sprite lay beside his bare foot.

 

            “You care too much, Cas,” Dean teased, tilting the bottle towards him. “You need to get that stick out of your ass.”

 

            “I don’t have a stick up my ass, Dean!” Cas protested. He could feel himself growing red.

 

            “Not everything has to _mean something_ , not every girl you’re going to think is hot you’re going to want to take out for dinner and a movie.”

 

            Cas’s eyes darted away from Dean and he bit against his guilty irritation at his best friend’s sharp intake of breath.

 

            “Right. Person. Sorry,” Dean said awkwardly.

 

            Cas knew he was trying, he really was, it wasn’t Dean’s fault he hadn’t been raised with bisexual in his vernacular. “It’s fine,” he gritted out, swallowing his irritation at Dean’s typical thick headedness. He would’ve exploded on him by now if he wasn’t so goddamn _pretty_. Not that Cas had the hots for his best friend, absolutely not. But he was allowed to look. And Dean said he could, not technically, but he’d nodded and clapped Cas on the back and said “Go you, that means you get twice as much ass,” when Cas had come out to him. Which was as much of a heartfelt moment Dean Winchester could muster.

 

            “But that doesn’t change my point, Cas, if anything, it makes it more right. You bat for _both_ teams, which means you should be able to get plenty of action, you don’t have to be such a prude all the time. There’s nothing wrong with casual hook ups.”

 

            Cas took a swig of his soda, even if it was flat and warm and totally revolting at this point. “Maybe I just don’t want to hook up with random people.”

 

            “You’re a teenage _guy_ , Cas, you _have to want that_ at least sometimes, I mean _seriously_.”

 

            “Dean! Just because I’m bisexual doesn’t mean I’m a slut!”

 

            “Whoah, Cas, I didn’t mean that at all, okay, I’m just saying you’re great, you know, and you’re not bad looking, in a totally not weird way for me to say that of course–– there would be plenty of interested hook up partners if you put yourself out there, and you work so hard all the time, with your 4.0 and shit, that you should just have fun once in awhile.”

 

            Cas nodded. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”

 

            “I’m just saying not to be such a prude.”

 

            “I’m not a prude!” As if trying to prove his point, Cas snatched Dean’s beer away and finished it off, slamming the dark brown bottle onto the floor of the tree house with a solid clunk.

 

            “Prove it.”

 

            The words were menacing and hung in the air between them, seeping into the porous walls as they stared at each other, testing the waters, trying to figure out who should speak next.

 

            “How?” Castiel said softly.

 

            Dean smirked. “I dare you to hook up with someone just because you think they’re hot, no strings attached.”

 

            Cas set his jaw, glaring at Dean. He’d expected this, but it was still annoying. Why couldn’t Dean just let him do what he wanted in his sex life?

 

            Dean quirked an eyebrow at him expectantly and Cas realized Dean was sure he was going to back out. Fuck. No.

 

            “Okay,” Cas said casually.

 

            “Okay?” Dean turned his shocked expression into one of smugness so professionally anyone but Cas would never have noticed.

 

            Cas nodded again. “Yeah,” eyes running over Dean, sizing him up, and suddenly, he knew exactly what to do to get back at Dean for all his stupid comments about Cas being a prude, his insensitivity to Cas coming out. Who better for a casual hook up than your totally hot (because let’s face it) best friend since forever? The pieces fell together rapidly and Cas was blinking, shifting, knocking over the half-full can and empty bottle without a second thought, pushing Dean back against the floor with a hand on his chest, the other running above the waistband of his pants. He caught Dean’s lips, parted in surprise, sucking quickly on the bottom lip before running his tongue over and in and Dean’s mouth opened more in a surprised gasp as Cas climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and shifting down against him, harder. Cas ran his tongue along the roof of Dean’s mouth and stifled a groan of surprise as Dean reciprocated, nipping and pushing with his _entire body_ and if this was what no strings attached felt like then Cas couldn’t blame Dean for liking it.

 

            Somehow, Dean had taken control, even though he was the one being surprise-attacked, and he flipped them over, above Cas, one hand splayed against the small of his back in their half-sitting, half-lying down position pressed up in a corner of the tree house. Its walls seemed to be shrinking in, smaller than ever and everything was _so hot._ Cas moaned into Dean’s mouth, embarrassment at his obvious erection only flickering a moment before he felt Dean’s, his hips rocking against Cas’s and what were they, _in fucking middle school,_ rutting with pants on?

 

            Dean had twined his fingers into Cas’s longer hair and Cas decided to take control again, since this was _his_ hook up, technically, shifting to suck on Dean’s neck below his ear, not caring the awkwardness the mark would cause afterwards, one hand moving to the button of his pants, opening the fly and slipping his hand inside, working fevered fingertips over the thin cloth of Dean’s boxers, pressing and prodding questioningly. Was this cutting the strings, setting the whole fucking thing crashing to the ground? Dean answered by pushing his hips forward, pressing up against Cas’s hand and Cas nodded against him as Dean crushed their mouths together once more, wriggling as Cas tugged his jeans down enough to get his whole hand between them, reaching under the elastic waistband of Dean’s bozers and taking him into his palm, giving his cock a slight squeeze before shifting up and down.

 

            Dean was thrusting into his hand, gasping into Cas’s mouth and it could’ve been summer for all Cas knew–– his skin was burning, lids fluttering and getting someone else off had never been this good. He picked up his pace, other hand shifting to Dean’s hips to still him; he was the one in control, calling the shots, Dean wasn’t allowed to change that, not this time.

 

            Dean’s hand had slid under Cas’s shirt, fingers pattering across his chest, the other at the base of his neck, cradling his head. Cas craned his neck back, exposing his throat for Dean to suck a mark to match his own. Cas moaned at the scrape of teeth and slight stubble Dean had been growing, fingers tripping up Dean’s length, thumb pressing against the slit and Dean’s teeth snagged on his collarbone in a groan as the air thickened and he came over Cas’s fist.

 

            They fell back, sitting in their customary places in the tree house, knees and feet bumping as Dean put himself away and Cas panted heavily, wiping his hand on his thigh and trying to organize his thoughts somehow, to make things familiar. He could feel, even now, the wood walls absorbing the experience, preserving it in their history forever. He hazarded a glance at Dean and found him staring, open-mouthed and bright green.

 

            Cas searched for awkwardness because really, it should be there, but found none, just the regular, placid calm of their June days. Somehow, this wasn’t unexpected, this was regular, at least in the space of their tree house. And that, that was okay.

 

            “Yes,” Cas said carefully, not even sure what he was saying it to. He was breathing normally again, finally, and his raging hard on seemed to be fading.

 

            Dean nodded and Cas felt a flicker of pride for somehow being the person who was able to make Dean Winchester speechless (not for the first time, but this was different).

 

            “I have proven you wrong.”

 

            “Yeah, you have.”

 

            Now it was Cas’s turn to nod.

 

            “No strings attached,” Dean said. He’d picked up the empty beer bottle and was running his index finger along the rim, staring at it fixedly, gripping the bottle and damn that really _shouldn’t be hot_. The sprite was spreading darkly in a fizzing puddle across the floor and they should really clean that up before the ants caught a whiff of it.

 

            “No strings att––” Cas began to agree before Dean leaned across the small space (their space, never too small for them) and kissed him, in a tender, taking his time way Cas hadn’t even thought Dean was capable of. He began to kiss back, tongue probing, but Dean pulled back, giving Cas’s wrist a quick squeeze before leaning against the wall behind him once again.

 

            “––ached,” Cas finished dumbly, incapable of generating a new thought.

 

            Maybe out there, in the sprawling mass of suburbia and dickheads and looming futures they were best friends, strings attached and taut, but here, in their space that would remain even after John and Mary sold the place and new kids played in here, hooked up in here, they were everything they were supposed to be. Their stories were written into the hobbled together wood walls, soaked deep into the grain, unnoticeable to anyone else.

 

            Dean maneuvered his way around Cas, legs hooking together accidentally on purpose as he lay down, avoiding the soda spill. He tugged on Cas’s shirt and Cas took the message, lying down beside Dean, nestling against him in a curious, unsure way. Dean slid his arm around Cas’s waist lightly, in such a way that it would be easy to pull back, but Cas took Dean’s hand in his, pressing it against his stomach and closing his eyes with a sigh.

 

            Here, they were everything they needed to be, free of labels and sexuality and stupid, insensitive comments. They were just themselves here, Dean and Castiel, carving the first chapter of their story into the floor, no strings attached.


End file.
